


Willing Suspension

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Chipped Cup, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French loves a good story. After paying a visit to Mr. Gold's pawnshop, she's determined to learn his. As reluctant as Mr. Gold is to tell his tale, he can't help his fascination with the sweet librarian who's taken an interest in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mr Gold used to at least try to feign interest in the knick-knacks people brought into his shop for a quick buck. But these days, he doesn’t really bother. He’s been doing this long enough to spot the junk and knockoffs all the way from the town line. His latest visitor, a young man, had brought in small sculpture of a rearing horse. The glaze paint job on it was careless and heavy enough that Gold imagined it’d still be impossible to sell even if it weren’t made of cheap plaster.

“I’m sorry, but this— is nothing.” Mr Gold dismissed, waving his hand over the sculpture, unable to bear the sight of it any longer.

“Come on! There must be something you can do!” The patron delivered a pleading gaze, but Gold could tell his guest knew damn well his offering wasn’t worth a penny, or more importantly a minute of his time.

People tend to forget that a deal requires two interested parties. Mr Gold imagines this is how he earned his reputation as Storybrooke’s resident curmudgeon. People call him heartless, but considering they only come to him when they need a quick buck or a discreet favor, he thinks it seems a bit hypocritical. The thing is, Mr Gold does feel for these people— desperate souls willing to give up all that they have. But Mr Gold runs a pawn shop, not a charity drive.

“Look, dearie,” Gold sighed. “I hate to insult you, but whatever it is that has you so desperate— I’m sure has a much greater price than this pathetic trinket," he hissed, muttering each syllable through clenched teeth. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Fine,” the man scoffed. “I knew this would be a waste of time.”

“Indeed, it has been,” the shop owner smirked, taking no offense. He squared his shoulders and tipped his head slightly, shaking a stray lock of hair away from his face. Seething, his guest spun on his heels, and began heading for the door. Mr Gold cleared his throat. “...Excuse me,” he chimed, “I believe you’re forgetting something.” The man continued out the door without looking back, the bells on the door clamoring violently as it slammed shut.

Mr Gold looked down once more at the figure on his counter with disdain. “Well, I suppose taking out your trash is the least I could do,” he muttered to himself, carelessly sliding it off the counter and into the waste basket below. It hit the bottom with a heavy thud. He glanced down at his chest, running his fingers along his tie, smoothing it down into his waistcoat. Satisfied, he gave each of the lapels on his jacket a finishing pat.

He took a moment to survey his shop. It was indeed an impressive collection. He had the usual accoutrement— jewelry, skillfully crafted blades, timepieces, musical instruments, porcelain dolls, sets of china, fine art—  but the items he was most proud of belonged to his private collection. They weren’t for sale, but Gold enjoyed having them out for his own enjoyment.

One such item was a pair of eerie marionette dolls he kept near the front of the shop, simply because he enjoyed the disturbed looks they’d get out of visitors and passers-by. These personal items of his belonged to a very particular niche of antiques- priceless relics and artifacts that belonged more in a museum of curiosities than a pawn shop. They all had bizarre stories attached to them, rumored to be haunted or cursed or tied to some kind of infernal ritual belonging to a lost civilization. They made his guests uneasy, but he delighted in them. Besides, when you give the other party the creeps they tend to be a little more receptive to negotiation.

Mr Gold was pulled from his woolgathering when he heard the door bells chiming again. He lifted his gaze to the young woman entering his shop. She was a welcome sight, with bright blue eyes and chestnut hair that seemed to glow as scattered rays of sunlight filtered through the windows and danced over its soft waves. She smiled coyly as their eyes met. It took Mr Gold a moment to realize she was undeserving of the bitter scowl his previous company had left on his face. He eased his expression, idly raising a hand to his chest and rubbing his fingers together. There was a brief moment before he realized his guest was now giving him a curious stare.

“I- I’m sorry.” Gold stammered, fumbling his hands and shaking his head. “Please. Come in, is there anything I can help you with? Anything you’re looking for?”

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” she smiled, speaking with a strong Australian accent that shaped her lips exquisitely. “It’s just— I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’m fascinated. I like to look.” She bobbed sheepishly as she spoke, her eyes taking in everything around her before finally meeting his gaze once again.

“Well then,” he nodded. “Look all you like, take your time. If you’d like to get a closer look at something, don’t hesitate to ask.”

The packed shelves blocked much of the natural light from the space, making the small shop’s interior very dark, despite the sunny time of day. There was a feeling of heaviness in the air the woman noticed the moment she walked in, as if each item in the shop had its own burden attached to it. She slowly stepped deeper into the shop, her brows furrowing as her eyes focused from one object to the next.

As Mr Gold watched her, he couldn’t help but admire the way she was dressed. The eclectic yet tasteful combination of patterns and textures, among her skirt, blouse, jacket, and heels, all seemed to make her one with the shop's atmosphere. But his shop was full of old, abandoned things. She was young, her bright eyes filled with an almost childlike curiosity toward everything around her. The sight before him was like a Caravaggio painting, modeled in chiaroscuro— and she was the brash highlight drawing him in.

He’d noticed her a few times before, walking down Main Street in all manner of flirtatiously cut skirts and ridiculously high heels. On windy days, she’d put her hair up while her hemline was left to flutter in the breeze, revealing more of the titillating length of her legs. Not that he was staring. At least certainly not like _that_. In truth, he’d observed the way her nose was always buried in a book. He found it rather amusing, how she managed to weave safely around the other pedestrians without so much as taking a single glance up from her text. After a while, he’d deduced that she must work in the library, seeing as the only places she ever seemed to walk to or from where there and Granny’s Diner.

Mr Gold caught himself again, shaking his head and shifting his focus to some documents on his counter. He thumbed through them idly, but couldn’t help looking back up and watching the woman as she browsed his shop. It isn’t often that the people who enter his shop have any interests beyond finding out how much money they can get for whatever belongings they bring in. It's always a pleasant surprise to have a visitor who seems genuinely interested in his wares, regardless of whether they were likely to buy anything or not.

“I always like to wonder,” the woman began, “what kind of stories go with all these things.” She looked up at Gold with a smile, pausing briefly before fixing her gaze to the next artifact in the case.

Mr Gold wasn’t used to being smiled at in this way. He tended to elicit far less pleasant responses from people. Scowls, threats, swearing, lewd hand gestures. Whatever smiles cast his way were like his own— mischievous, conniving, malevolent. Yet here this woman was, smiling at him sweetly, genuinely, benevolently. It gave him a strange feeling in his chest he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, like, who did these things belong to?” She mused. “Where did these things come from? ...Did they have any sentimental value, or were they just considered junk?” The expression on her face suddenly dampened. “If they were valuable… what kind of unfortunate circumstances ever drove people to give them up?” Mr Gold perked up, delighted by the opportunity to talk about his things.

“Oh, it truly is fascinating.” He commented. He grabbed his cane and stepped over from behind his counter, joining her at the case. “Everything here really does have a tale of its own.”

“Really?” she gave him an intrigued look. Gold could already see the gears in her mind spinning. “What about... this one?” she asked, pointing to a double-ended candle. “That’s certainly a unique piece.”

“Oh, it is,” the man confirmed, wagging his index at it as he spoke. “You see, that candle, is said to possess magical properties.” He admired the candle for a moment, and then sharply, as if suddenly remembering he was not alone, glanced back at the woman beside him.

“Magic?” she parroted incredulously.

“Why, yes.” he smiled proudly. Mr Gold paused to adjust his footing, setting his cane down. A ring of keys emerged from his jacket pocket, and he unlocked the case. “It’s said that this candle can be used to spare one’s life by sacrificing another.” He removed it from its case gently, holding it up for her to see. “Simply light both ends, hold it over the body of your sacrifice, and say their name.” Mr Gold’s expression was intense, but she could recognize his enthusiasm as boyish and sweet.

“Is it true?” The woman took a step back, now somewhat intimidated by the candle’s alleged power.

“Well fortunately,” he chuckled, placing it back in the case. ”I’ve not yet been in a position to test it.” The woman laughed, realizing how silly her question must have seemed, yet nothing about Gold’s expression confirmed this. Her cheeks warmed to a delightful pink and he couldn’t help but stare. She bit her lip and shook her head, escaping his gaze.

“But I mean, do _you_ believe it?”

The man straightened his stance again, resting both his hands back on his cane.

“Let’s just say I like to keep my mind open to even the most ludicrous of possibilities.”

The young woman stared back at the candle for a moment with an expression of wonder.

“It just sounds like that sort of thing I’d read about in one of my books.” she observed. “Certainly not something I’d ever see with my own two eyes.”

“Well as they say, the truth can often be stranger than fiction. Much stranger, in fact.”

The woman’s eyes darted around the shop, as she wondered what other kinds of curiosities could be housed on its shelves.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, starting toward a tea set on the other side of the shop. Gold’s eyes followed her across the space. “These are beautiful!” She reached for one of the porcelain cups but stopped herself. “Um… m-may I?” she looked back at him, embarrassed for forgetting her manners.

“Go right ahead,” he encouraged her with a nod, staggering his way over. She picked up the cup gently, handling it as delicately as possible while admiring the details of its ornately shaped handle. Painted on its sides in lapiz was a small flowering branch. A gold trim along its edges gleamed as it caught what little sunlight filled the room. But as she turned the teacup in her hands, it slipped from her gentle grip. The woman let out a gasp as she watched it land on the rug below, a tiny crack piercing the silence.

“Oh god!” she cried, placing her hands over her mouth. Her blue eyes widened in panic. “I am- I am so sorry!”

Mr Gold looked down at the chipped cup, not saying a word. It wasn’t shattered to pieces; it was, remarkably, still in tact, save for a small chip in its rim.

“H-here, let me get that,” the woman stammered. Her brow furrowed in concern as her eyes glanced over his ankle, before darting back up to his expressionless face. She scrambled to her knees, her hands trembling as she picked up the cup’s pieces. “It’s… it’s not so bad, is it?” She pleaded, holding the them up to the shop owner and waiting to read his reaction.

“Worry not, dearie,” he assured coolly. “I may have a lot of rare and unique items in this shop,” he gestured around the space with his cane. “But this,” he explained, reaching for the pieces in her hands, “is truly, just a cup.” Gold could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. The last person to damage something in his shop was ready to press charges by the time he was was through with them.

He could feel his chest tighten as his fingertips made contact with her soft hands. He expected her to jerk away from him, but she lingered onto his touch instead. Her hand seemed to follow his as he slowly pulled away. When he lifted his gaze from the chipped porcelain in his palm to her blue eyes, he saw that she was biting her lip in what appeared to be an attempt at concealing a smile.

“Are you sure?” she insisted, “It’s not… I don’t know, a magic cup?” She shrugged, chuckling nervously and rolling her eyes at the thought.

With a scoff, Mr Gold carried the cup over to his counter, his right leg swinging outwards as he leaned on his cane with each step.

“The thing about magical objects, dearie,” he said, pausing to place the teacup in his cupboard, “is that they only have as much power as we give them.” The woman smiled nervously, not quite sure what he was implying.

“I-I should probably get going” she stammered. She looked at the door anxiously, then back at Gold, who nodded. She stepped up to the counter and extended her hand. “Belle. My name’s Belle French.”

“Very well then.” he smiled, shaking her hand. “It was lovely to meet you, Miss French. Please, come visit again any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first attempt at fic ever, and my first attempt at writing much of anything in about five years. I just... Suddenly got the itch to start writing again. Hopefully it's alright, yeah? Got 2-3 more chapters to edit, and who knows how many more to write.


	2. Chapter 2

 “What's that you're reading now?” The waitress asked, settling into the booth across from Belle.

“Oh, just some book about magic and stuff I found in the library.” She lifted the text up, revealing the cover for her friend to see.

“Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and the Dark Arts?” the waitress read, tilting her head as though she were a dog hearing a peculiar sound.

“It's... interesting stuff.” Belle insisted with a nod, getting a little defensive..

“Belle, should I be worried?” the waitress snorted.

“You? Worried about me?” Belle laughed. Ruby pouted at her friend for a moment, then clicked her tongue.

“So are there like, spells and satanic rituals in there?” Ruby finally asked. Belle’s shoulders bounced in a silent chuckle.

“As a matter of fact, there are,” Belle answered slyly, raising a brow.

“What kinda spells and rituals?” The waitress asked, scooting to the edge of her seat. Her tone implied she had somewhere she was going with this.

“Oh, mostly stuff about balancing forces of energy. Warding off evil and bringing in fortune and prosperity.” Ruby seemed disappointed with this answer. Belle lifted her eyes from the book fought a smile. “...Was there something you had in mind?” Ruby’s eyes instantly lit up, a mischievous grin shaping her lips.

“Well,” she began, her expression feigning innocence. “I’ve always been a little curious about magic of the... _sexual_ persuasion.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. Belle shot her a pointed look.

“I might have a read a thing or two about that,” she confessed with a smile, trying not to giggle.

“Seriously though, what’s all this about?” Ruby asked, sitting back up in her seat. “Magic seems a bit out of your… purview.”

Belle had already buried herself back into her book. Her eyes scanned its pages intensely for a moment before she realized she had been asked a question. She looked back up at Ruby, her lips twisting in thought before letting out a deep sigh.

“Ruby,” Belle glanced around the diner furtively, then continued in a whisper. “What do you know about Mr Gold?”

“Oh.” Ruby scoffed, her eyes widening as it all came together. “That would explain it.” She grimaced. “Enough to stay away from him.” She gave Belle a quizzical stare. “...Why?”

“Oh, nothing” Belle dismissed, taking a long sip of her iced tea.

“Nothing?” Ruby echoed, her siren-red lips curling into a smirk..

“Just I—I went into his shop the other day. We talked. That's all. It just uh, got me thinking.” Belle’s expression grew intense, her complexion getting flushed. “I mean, what's the story there? Surely, there's a reason for... well, why everyone acts like he's some sort of horrible beast!” Ruby was silent for a moment. A sly grin slowly formed on her face once again.

“Are you… into him?” She teased.

“No! Of course not!” Belle blurted out with a huff. “It's just, I don't know… he seemed like a nice guy when I talked to him.” Her eyes floated up wistfully, as she let out a sharp sigh.  “An… an interesting guy.”  She nodded, her eyes dropping back down to her book. “That's all.”

“Look. I'm sure he's harmless.” Ruby offered. “He keeps to himself, people wonder, they come up with crazy rumors…” her voice trailed off. “Doesn't help that he owns the whole town. ...and he doesn't seem very friendly from what I've seen.” Ruby scowled at the realization that she didn’t sound terribly convincing. “...But hey— to me, he's just the guy who shows up at the inn once a month to collect granny's rent. So who knows?”

It’s true that apart from being a strict landlord to virtually everyone in town, very few of Storybrooke’s residents actually seem to have any real dirt on Mr Gold. Or if they do, no one wants to say anything about it. Like most of the people in town, Mr Gold publicly has a rather antagonistic relationship with Mayor Mills, yet the two always seem to be in collusion. But considering Regina Mills runs the town, Mr Gold owns the town, and them both wielding very strong personalities, no one ever thinks much of it. Besides, some of Storybrooke’s residents were far more imaginative than that.

At some point, someone started the rumour that Mr Gold got his start as the bagman for some criminal enterprise before eventually usurping a seat at the top, where he made his fortune. According to this theory, Gold got his limp when his right hand foolishly attempted to take him out, and it now serves as a reminder for him to trust no one. Years later, fed up with the lack of honor among thieves these days, he’d made himself disappear to quiet town of Storybrooke, where he could bury his questionable past and live out his days a not-so-humble shopkeeper. Considering Gold’s refined tastes, knack for discretion, and silver tongue, this seems like a pretty viable theory- except for the part where most crime lords don’t get happy endings in quaint, sleepy towns. Not to mention, that as far as Belle was concerned, it sounded more like the plot to some mediocre work of pulp fiction. If such a tale even remotely resembled the truth, she’d find it a miserable disappointment.

There’s was something more to him, she thought. Something that ran much deeper. He was mysterious, alright, but Belle always enjoyed a good mystery. Most people in town are afraid of Mr Gold, but she was intrigued. He wasn’t anything like Storybrooke’s other residents. It’s a simple town full of simple people with simple lives— not that Belle took pity on them or anything of the sort. Storybrooke was just the kind of place where nothing ever happens, and nobody asks any questions (albeit because they already know everybody’s business). For Mr Gold to spark the curiosity of Storybrooke’s entire township was quite a feat, really. It was something that she found admirable, in a strange way. Perhaps admirable in the way one could be proud of having made all the right enemies in life.

Belle lifted her gaze back up to Ruby's face and gave a faint smile. Her friend had been talking all this time and now Belle was blushing at the realization she’d not been paying attention.

“...Don't worry, Belle.” Ruby continued. “I mean, I totally understand.” She placed her hand on Belle’s arm reassuringly. “He's kinda got that hot, mysterious older guy thing going for him, a sharp dresser... and that sweet, little Scottish brogue?” Ruby rolled her eyes back, gaping her mouth and pausing for a moment. “Amazing!” She winked, rising out from the booth.

“You're the worst.” Belle groaned.

“Mhmm, I know!” Ruby nodded and smiled, heading back to the kitchen.

  
  


*****

  
  


Belle took a deep breath, glancing down at the books in her arms before opening the door to Gold’s shop. The little bell jingled, yet Mr Gold was nowhere to be seen. Belle waded into the shop cautiously.

“Mr Gold? Are you there? The door was open, I—”

“Ah, Miss French” the shopkeeper announced, emerging from his office and assuming his position at the counter. There was a small grin on his face. Smug, almost. “You’re back. Might I ask what for?”

Belle was glued to her position in the middle of shop. Mr Gold had a certain air about himself that commanded her attention, she noticed. She wondered if perhaps it was the suit. Or maybe it was the casual confidence that came with a man of his age. Or perhaps it wasn’t him at all, but something in herself. She suddenly became aware of the fact that she was just standing still gaping at him and well, she couldn’t find much fault in what she was seeing. _Fuck,_ she thought. Ruby was right. That little coquette has a sixth sense about these things.

“Oh, it's nothing.” Belle said, shaking her head and starting toward him. “Just, I uh, did some reading.” She placed her books on the counter and began thumbing through their pages. “...on magical objects, spells, you know...” She looked up at him with a gleam in her eyes. “I found some information about your candle, see?” Her finger directed his attention to a passage in the text. He gave her a knowing smile. “...I don't know, I just get so fascinated by these things.” She shrugged. “And this one,” she continued, opening a second book. “It's in Gaelic. I had to translate it— it goes into much more detail…” her voice trailed off.

Mr Gold felt his heart swell as he watched how fervent she was, thinking how telling it was of her to go through the trouble of researching his candle for no reason other than satiating her own curiosity. Moreover, he ached to think how precious it was that she was now going out of her way to share her findings with him. People only came into his shop when they needed things, favors from him. Yet here she was, with something _for him_ , wanting nothing in return but his attention— and by gods, she would have it.

“Well, I must say that I'm quite flattered, dearie.” Gold pulled the translations closer, clearing his throat. His eyes skimmed over her handwriting for a moment. “And rather impressed,” he added quietly, his brows raising with emphasis. He turned his focus to the first book and began flipping hastily through its pages, looking for something. The pages made loud chopping noises as they slid over each other in chunks before stopping abruptly. Belle watched Gold’s eyes dart across the page as he wet his lips. He quickly flipped a few more pages before resting his hand on one of the spreads. “Did you read this here? About the globe?” He tapped his finger on the passage in question. Belle froze for a moment, bemused.

“No, I—” She faltered, looking down at the page so she could read instead.

“Fascinating piece.” Gold asserted. “It uses blood magic. You prick your finger on its axis, and it reveals where in the world the your family is located.” Belle pulled away from the text and glanced around the shop, wondering if it was among his collection. “Oh no, I don't have it, dearie,” he assured, reading her mind. “Though I once thought I did.” He paused and furrowed his brow, as if recalling an unpleasant memory. “Turned out to be a fake.”

Belle gave him a curious stare.

“How did you find that out?” She pried, not sure if he was being serious. Gold scoffed.

“Well, I am somewhat of an expert,” he boasted, pridefully cocking his head to the side. The movement whipped a lock of sable hair behind his ear, revealing the greying strands sprouting along his temple. Belle shook her head, trying to refocus.

“So. This globe— you really believe it exists?” She closed her eyes and smiled, trying, yet struggling, to accept the notion. “I mean, it sounds—”

“Like something out of a fairy tale?” Gold gave Belle a crooked smile. He leaned over the counter, steepling his fingers and inching into the young woman’s space. After a pause, his expression grew serious. “These kinds of magical objects are somewhat of a specialty of mine, Miss French. I _have_ to believe they exist, or else I'd just be wasting my time.” He pulled away and hastily returned her book to the page about the candle. “But there you have it,” he declared, the crooked grin returning to his face as he squared his shoulders. “...Everything in this shop has a story.” He added, making a dramatic gesture at the candle in its case.

Belle eyed the man for a moment, a sly grin forming.

“What about you, Mr Gold?” She asked, wearing her suspicion boldly on her face. “What's your story?”

Gold froze for a moment. His eyes drifted upwards as he considered his response. His eyes met Belle’s again, but he stared ahead blankly, his focus going through her.

“I'm afraid there isn't much to tell.” he answered calmly, with lidded eyes.

“No.” she insisted. “I don't believe that, Mr Gold.”

“And why is that, dearie?” he challenged with a grin.

“Well, we all have a story.” Belle looked into his eyes, intent on reading him. “And I believe they're all worth telling.”

Gold’s expression softened in reluctant surrender. “That may be so,” he admitted. “Nonetheless, I'm afraid that perhaps... that's a tale for another time." He was relieved to see the suspicion fade from her eyes. But it only lasted moment, as a playful smile soon took hold of her lips.

“Okay!” Belle chirped and closed her books, stacking them back up. “How about Saturday at noon? Lunch at Granny's?”

Mr Gold's jaw dropped open in shock.

“Excuse me?” he squeaked.

“You heard me.” Belle smiled, grabbing her books and heading for the door. “Hope to see you there, Mr Gold!” She turned her head and looked back at him, beaming, before she stepped outside. Mr Gold stood frozen at his counter as the door slammed shut, sending the bell chiming.

_What a strange girl_ , he thought to himself.

Mr Gold turned around and pulled back the curtain to his office, not even trying to fight the grin tugging at his lips as he retreated to his desk.

He returned to his work on a silver necklace he had picked up at an estate sale a few weeks ago. It had two delicate tiered chains that joined into a pendant with a pave rose charm and three settings of sapphire, each in a different cut. It was a unique piece, decidedly feminine. As he inspected it under the magnifier, he wondered if it was something Belle might wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some fun looking at inspiration for the necklace, so here's the pic if you're curious - [link](http://www.morninggloryantiques.com/imagesLZ/Victorian2/vict36884.jpg) :)


	3. Chapter 3

 

Belle didn’t expect Mr Gold to show up at all, let alone for him to be there early, waiting for her. But surely enough, there sat his now familiar figure, his back to her. He sat gazing out the window, unresponsive to the sound of the doorbell as she stepped inside. The sunlight gleamed against his smooth, ashen brown hair. His cane was propped up, leaning against the table. The glare the sunlight cast off of its golden handle was almost blinding.

Ruby greeted Belle silently from behind the bar, gesturing encouragingly at Gold’s table. Belle’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them with unease.

“Go on,” Ruby mouthed, thrusting her head in the man’s direction. “This, I gotta see.” She smiled devilishly.

Belle’s heels clacked quietly against the linoleum floor as she approached.

“You’re uh— You’re here.” Belle observed cautiously, waiting for a response before taking her seat. After a beat, he pulled away from the window and glanced up at her.

“Expecting I wouldn’t show?” he asked with a grin, straightening his posture.

“You’re early.” She observed with a smile.

“Punctuality… is the soul of business,” he declared. Mr Gold made a flamboyant gesture with his hand, inviting her to sit down. Belle smirked, nodding her head as she considered his statement.

“Well...” Belle began as she settled into her seat across from him. “Some would also say that punctuality is the virtue of the bored,” she quoted slyly. Gold snickered in amusement, shaking his head. “Or,” she continued, making a stern face, “...the lonely.” Belle paused pensively for a moment, then shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

“You really do enjoy your books, don’t you, Miss French?” he deflected, impressed.

“What kind of a librarian would I be if I didn’t?” she beamed.

“Well now, don’t you two make an odd pair?” Ruby chimed in before Gold could respond, placing menus on the table. “Can I get you two started with something to drink?” she asked, sizing up Mr Gold, who gestured toward Belle, insisting her order be taken first. “You?” she glanced at Belle. “Iced Tea? Lemon?”

“Yes. Please.” she smiled. Ruby gave her a wink before returning to Gold.

“And you?”

“I’ll uh, have a ginger ale. Please.”

“...Interesting choice.” Ruby noted, jotting it down before starting toward the kitchen. “I’ll have those right out, guys.”

The two shared a brief silence before both chuckling uncomfortably.

“So how is it?” Gold started. “The library, I mean.” Belle relaxed her shoulders. “Is it… stimulating work?”

“I enjoy it.” Belle smiled. “Not exactly stimulating,” she stressed, “the work, I mean. But I do get to read to my heart’s content when things are slow.” She paused and chuckled, averting his gaze. “It’s uh, usually pretty slow.”

“Well I think,” Mr Gold began, “it’s when we’re left to indulge ourselves in our own passions, that we’re most poised to connect with ourselves.”

“And collecting magical artifacts,” Belle reached without hesitation, “is that how you connect to yourself?” Gold glanced down at the table and scoffed.

“I would say… studying magic is a means to that end.” His eyes locked with Belle’s, his mouth forming a crooked smile. Ruby placed the drinks on the table, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, so as not to disrupt their conversation.

“You’re…” Belle began, taking a moment to think carefully about her words. “You’re looking for somebody, aren’t you?”

Mr Gold took a sip from his glass, buying himself a moment to figure out how to respond.

“That’s why,” Belle grinned, “you’re so interested in that globe.”

“A novel assumption,” Gold commented, but this time his infliction was derisive. He carefully placed his glass back on the table, shrinking in his seat.

“That’s how you knew it was a fake.” Belle continued. She could sense Gold’s discomfort with the subject, but couldn’t stop herself. “You tried to use it.”

Mr Gold fell silent, his stare diving to his feet. Belle stopped herself, looking at him in a stupor.

“I—” Belle stammered, “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have— It’s a sensitive subject, isn’t it?” Her face flushed in shame. “Please, forgive me,” she pleaded, placing a hand over his, “I didn’t mean any offense, I just—”

“No, it’s quite alright,” he insisted, pulling his hand away. He fixed his gaze back upon the window.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Belle urged. “I just put you in a vulnerable position. Let me— Please, allow me to make myself vulnerable too, to share a secret with you?”

Mr Gold remained silent. The expression on his face was one Belle hadn’t seen on him yet. For a moment, she began to see the bitter man she had only often heard rumors of.

“I too, have uh, lost someone.” Belle started. “Someone very dear to me, when I was young, who I’ll never get back.” 

Gold allowed himself to look her in the eyes again, but remained silent.

“She’s the reason I read so much,” Belle continued, with a nervous chuckle. “It helps... It makes me feel closer her— my mother.” She paused for a moment to blink away the tears that were beginning to flood her eyes. “She died... saving my life. She’s my hero, as brave as any of the ones in my books.”

Gold’s expression softened, his lips slowly forming a slight, reassuring smile. He let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss French.” he spoke softly.

She bowed her head and gazed up at him, forlorn.

“I hope... you don’t want to leave now.” she confessed. “I really uh, enjoy your company.”

Whatever anger that had surfaced in Gold seemed to have subsided. He sat up in his seat and chuckled to himself.

“Well now, dearie,  _ that _ would be a first.”

Belle perked back up, the tension now gone.

“Oh, I have a hard time believing that, Mr Gold,” she insisted with a friendly smile. “I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever met.” He looked at her, skeptical. “But please, accept my apologies, I should know better. You're a person— not one of my mysteries, or-or some character out of Lord Byron.” He accepted her apology with a tightlipped smile.

Ruby approached the table cheerfully.

“You guys ready to order or what?”

Belle looked at Gold expectantly.

“Yes,” he answered. “I believe we are.”

They spent the remainder of their meal discussing work. Belle rattled off about some of the less pleasurable responsibilities she bore at the library— overseeing the budget, reporting to Mayor Mills, helping the occasional technologically challenged visitor use the computers. Her duties were many, as the library’s only full-time employee. Gold tried to imagine her frustrated. He smiled inwardly at the thought of her huffing and politely shooing away pesky guests- she seemed far too sweet for anything more than that. Then again, he could hardly imagine anyone having the heart to give her a difficult time over anything, sweet as she was. In return, Mr Gold spun stories of his many trips to flea markets and estate sales out of town, acquiring items for his shop.

“You must do a lot of research, to be able to pick out the worthwhile pieces from the junk,” Belle remarked.

“Oh I do,” he nodded, “But I enjoy it. When you have an appreciation for the history and the craftsmanship that goes into these things, it hardly feels like work.”

“For all that research you do, I can’t say I’ve ever seen you in the library,” she observed with a cheeky smile.

“I’ve been in the business a long time, Miss French. I have sources of my own.” He answered with a cool shrug.

“Well you know,” she began. “...If your sources ever fail you, Mr Gold, the staff at the  Storybrooke Public Library are highly competent and  _ very  _ thorough.” Belle tried to make a stern face, but a mirthful grin tugged at her lips instead. Gold noticed his breath hitch at her words. He gulped, as if to swallow down whatever salacious thoughts that had begun to manifest.

“Is that so?” He grinned at her beaming face. “That staff of one, Miss French?”

“Mhmm!” She nodded with laughter. 

“Come to think of it, I do recall a certain librarian waltzing into my shop not too long ago with a stack of books under her arm… could she have been one of yours, you think?” He was pleased to watch another fit of giggles escape her mouth before she began to nibble on her bottom lip, sealing the floodgates. “...I’ll certainly consider it next time, Miss French.” 

The sunlight was filtering in differently than it had when Belle had arrived. The light was softer and she noticed the way it made Mr Gold’s features look more gentle. The lunch rush had long gone, leaving the diner almost empty. Ruby had handed them their checks quite some time ago, yet they lingered.

“Why did you agree to come meet me here?” Belle finally asked in an almost-whisper. Gold stared ahead blankly for a moment, then shrugged.

“Well,” he began, raising a brow. He rolled his shoulders inward, leaning over slightly as if to make a confession. Belle gazed at him in anticipation. “...You did ask nicely,” he deadpanned. 

Belle let out a sharp sigh, not amused with his dry response. But then a grin took hold of her lips as she recalled the fact that she’d hardly asked him at all. She’d practically  _ told _ him.

“What about you, Miss French? Why did you invite me?” She stared into his eyes a moment, wrinkling her nose as she considered her answer. She did a crooked little half smile and let out a deep sigh.

“Everybody here seems so content,” she began. Gold leaned in, wetting his lips and resting his chin on his palm. “I read my books, learn about all these exciting new places, and I just know that I want more for myself than this place.” She paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on him. He didn’t respond, verbally or otherwise. He simply held her gaze and waited for her to continue. “The people in this town think you’re strange, Mr Gold.” She eyed him closely for a moment, looking for some indication she may have offended him. Unable to detect any, she continued. “...I can’t say I understand why.” Now she shrugged, glancing down at the table and nibbling her lip. “But I can tell they think I’m strange too.”

Mr Gold could feel his heart plummet in his chest at her words, realizing the truth in them. For someone so young and kind, intelligent and beautiful, the girl never seemed to fit in or have any friends, save for Mrs. Lucas’ granddaughter. Of course, plenty of people get along just fine with a single friend— but for someone with a job that requires a certain degree of community involvement, one would expect her to a bit more woven into the town’s fabric. Lost in these thoughts, Gold failed to provide her with any response.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Was that uh, too much?” she chuckled nervously as her cheeks flushed pink. He knew he had to say something- anything, instead of watching her get embarrassed because of his inadequate social skills.

“No, no, Miss French.” he finally blurted out. “It’s fine. It’s uh, just the right amount of…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to complete whatever ridiculous sentence his mouth had started without his permission. Mercifully, her soft giggling let him off the hook.

“Do you think I’m strange too, Mr Gold?” And just like that, he was thrown back into the fire.

“Of course not,” he assured quickly, but she almost looked disappointed. This was torture. Or some kind of trap? “I mean… I suppose you’re uh, different…” he added cautiously. He was relieved to see her face brighten up again, if only just a little. “But uh, different is well alright, Miss French.”

She was beaming now. He might even say her smile was growing too big for her face, if such a thing were possible.

“I’ve always felt all the best people are a little strange,” she explained with a grin.

“I’m afraid I may be more than a little strange, dearie. ...I’m stranger,” he shrugged. “Much stranger.” He meant it to sound more self-effacing than anything else, but apparently he failed.

“Even better!” She grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh.” he managed to choke out.  _ What the hell was that supposed to mean? _ He swallowed, as if to suppress any imminent nervous ramblings. “...Is that what you think?” 

Belle nodded enthusiastically. “Normal is for people who lack the courage to be who they really are,” she declared. Mr Gold smiled at first, then broke into laughter. “...What?!” She cried, her eyes wide. “What’s so funny?!”

“Oh, I’m many things, dearie,” he chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But courageous is certainly not one of them.” She let out an amused gasp, her eyes darting across his features, sizing him up.

“No! I don’t believe that,” she insisted. “There’s more than one way to be brave, Mr Gold. Besides, I can see it in you.” She said with a warm smile.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping a boundary, Miss French— but I’m afraid you may be long overdue a visit to the optometrist,” he scoffed. Belle rolled her eyes and gave him an exhausted glare.

“I’m going to let you have this one, Mr Gold.” She narrowed her eyes and wagged an accusative finger at him. “But only because I’ve already kept you too long.”

“I admire your mercy, Miss French,” he nodded. Belle scooted out from the booth, prompting Gold to do the same. 

“Thank you,” Belle smiled, watching as he steadied himself on his cane. “...for coming.”

“It was my pleasure,” he nodded. The two awkwardly glanced around the quiet diner for a moment before finally locking eyes.

“Good afternoon, Mr Gold.” She said with a small bow.

“Good afternoon, Miss French.”

Gold watched with a smile as she spun on her heels and headed for the door. It wasn’t until the doorbell jingled that he realized he had been holding his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the positive feedback so far, guys!  
> I hope you enjoyed their little lunch date :)


	4. Chapter 4

“So, your totally platonic not-date with that guy you're definitely not interested in looked like it went really well.” Ruby deadpanned.

Belle cupped her hand over the phone, glancing around the library to see if anyone was within earshot.

“Ruby!” She whispered, “This is not appropriate conversation to have while I'm at work!”

“Sure it is!” Ruby argued, “I mean, if you guys are strictly just guy and gal pals, as you say.” Belle sighed in defeat. “So like, is he as spooky as everyone says? You gotta tell me, there's only so much stalking and eavesdropping I could do during my shift yesterday.”

“I had a good time…” Belle's voice trailed off.

“That's it? You gotta give me more than that, girl!”

“I told you, it isn't like that!” Belle insisted. She paused for a moment, then sighed. “Okay so, maybe I _am_ interested. I mean, he's an interesting guy,” Belle conceded. “...and a perfect gentleman,” she added with a chuckle. “There's a certain… _charm_ about him.”

“Ugh, yuck! Listen to you,” Ruby teased.

“Ruby, I swear—” Belle cut herself off and huffed. “Besides, I doubt he would ever consider me… in that way. He probably just sees me as this nosy, precocious child or something.”

“Umm, have you looked in a mirror lately? I don't think think there's a man in this town who hasn't _considered_ _it_.” Ruby insisted. “Hell, I know I have!” She paused for a beat, then continued quietly. “...Just saying. You know like, full disclosure between friends and all.”

Belle laughed.

“What!?” Ruby cried, “There are a lot of hot people in this town, in case you haven't noticed.”

Belle glanced around the library again and suddenly fell silent.

“Oh, God” she gasped.

“What, what is it?”

Through the window Belle could see that Mr Gold was just outside the library, turning the corner and heading for the front door.

“I gotta go,” she blurted, “I'll call you later.” Belle quickly put her phone down, cutting off Ruby’s response. She began rummaging through her desk in an attempt to look occupied. She grabbed the nearest book, and began reading. The door opened slowly with a gentle squeak. Belle refused to acknowledge him, but could hear his syncopated footsteps shuffling across the floor as he approached with his cane.

“I uh, hope I'm not interrupting anything,” came his voice. Belle looked up at Mr Gold, feigning surprise. “I figured it was alright, as you said things are quite slow in here. If not, I can—”

“No!” Belle insisted, closing her book without a thought. “It's perfectly alright!”

“Excellent.” He paused to rest his cane against the circulation desk, and glanced at Belle for a moment, unsure of how to begin.

“So uh, what brings you here, Mr Gold? Anything in my humble collection I can help you find?” She tossed her blue eyes toward the aisles of packed shelves beyond the lobby, then back to him with a smile.

“Actually,” he began, “I was hoping I might be able to add to it.” He flashed her a confident smile.

Belle arched her brow, opening her mouth as if to speak, but said nothing.

“Here,” he continued, pulling an aged text from under his arm, “I was going through my inventory, and came upon this.” He was being careful to conceal the book's cover from her view, watching the anticipation build on her face. It was bright red, with gold leaf stamped all over its spine, and as far as Belle could see, much of its front cover. Once Gold was satisfied, he quickly placed it on the desk before her, making a thud. Belle's face transformed with awe as she finally recognized the cover.

“How—” she chuckled in disbelief. “Mr Gold, this… this is incredible!” She was speechless with joy for a moment, then grew intense. “The Mysterious Island! Or-or, _L'Île mystérieuse_ , I suppose I should say!” Belle laughed, unable to even begin containing her excitement.

“So you know it?” He asked with a smirk, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

“Know it? This is a classic! Jules Verne!” She exclaimed. She was eyeing the book gleefully, tracing her finger along the letterpressing. “Mr Gold, it's one of my personal favorites! And this—” she stammered, “This is a first edition! The original, in French!”

“Well, I thought it would be more at home in your collection,” he explained, pausing a beat. “Private or- otherwise,” he finished, gesturing around the space.

“You don't understand,” she continued, “Do you have any idea, how valuable this is?” Gold shrugged with indifference, but couldn’t fight back the delighted grin on his face. He’s an antiques dealer, Belle thought. _Of course he knows how valuable it is._ “I- you know-” she stammered, then stopped to compose herself. “Much of this novel was sanitized for its English translation,” she proudly informed, squaring her shoulders.

“Well then, I just hope your French is up to par,” he replied with the quirk of a brow. “But seeing as you were more than happy to translate ten pages of Gaelic on a whim, I trust it shouldn't be an issue?”

Belle was overwhelmed, speechless once again. She just grinned widely at him.

“I want you to have it,” Gold assured with a nod. “It's all yours.” He picked his cane back up, ready to make his exit.

“No! Wait!” Belle called out. She rose from her seat, gleefully making her way around the desk and over to him. She gazed at Gold expectantly for a moment. He dodged her eyes, feeling his mouth go dry. Suddenly, he felt her arms wrapping around his shoulders. _A hug?_ After a moment, he cautiously reciprocated.

Mr Gold nervously withdrew a long, staggered breath, holding it in as he silently relished each of the fragrant notes of her perfume. She smelled like rich black tea leaves and fresh lemon. And maybe raspberries? Or perhaps it was pomegranate. It was a subtle aroma, but heavenly nonetheless, tempting him to draw closer. Her grip tightened, and he fought the impulse to let out a sigh, refusing to let himself melt into her embrace.

Belle was mentally taking notes of this moment. His cologne was delightfully androgynous combination of jasmine, bergamot, sandalwood, and musk. His suit was softer than she could have possibly imagined. She noted how his small frame felt in her arms before deciding it was time to let go. She stepped back, looking up at him warmly as he fumbled with his cane.

“Thank you,” she spoke with earnest, nodding toward the book on the desk. “It’s very… kind of you.”

Gold returned an uneasy smile and sighed gently, wetting his lips.

“Well, as I said. Books are your specialty, Miss French. Not mine.” He gave a quick bow and shifted his weight back onto his cane, ready to part ways.

“I just wanted to say,” Belle continued, freezing Gold in his tracks again. “I really enjoyed having lunch with you yesterday.” His posture eased. “And… I was wondering if perhaps, you’d like to do it again sometime?”

Gold was tempted to decline, to find some excuse not to. But as he read the pleading gaze on her face, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Belle watched fondly as he idly rubbed his thumb and index finger together. He seemed to do this whenever he was nervous, and Belle couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Yes,” he finally answered. “I-I think I would like that.” Belle smiled in relief.

“I uh, don’t know where… I hadn’t really thought about it.” Her pace quickened nervously. “But uh, I’m available most evenings. You know, the life of a librarian isn’t terribly exciting.” She began to fidget a little, not sure where she if she was being too forward, or not forward enough. “But uh, just not Wednesdays.”

Gold raised a brow.

“It’s uh, girl’s night.” Belle peeped.

“Yes,” he snickered after a beat. “Of course.”

“So you know,” she continued, “I’m open to ...suggestions.” Gold gave her a wry smile.

_What a sight to behold_ , he thought. Belle French, the aptly named librarian who tugged at his cold, sordid heart with every little smile and every fleeting glance of her blue eyes, wanted to make plans with _him_ . She was nibbling again on that _saint_ of a lower lip and had her fingers laced over her belly, twisting and wrenching them anxiously. _She was nervous?_ He had to be imagining things. And _suggestions!_ It had to be a mere coincidence that she had said that word so... well, _suggestively_.

He needed to say something. That much he knew. But he felt a weight on his chest. He looked for the words to say, but the pressure on his lungs kept them from surfacing. Something deep within told him he shouldn’t want this, he didn’t deserve it. That he didn’t deserve her kindness or her company. That if she knew any better, she’d no doubt be running the other way.

“Miss French!” A young voice called from the reading area. A boy with fair skin and dark brown hair came rushing over. “I think I’m ready to check out now!” Belle reflexively furrowed her brow at the interruption, before turning to the boy with a smile. Gold, frankly, was relieved.

“Hey, Henry!” She squat down before him, glancing over the texts he carried in his arms. “...Wow! That’s quite a few books you’ve got there!” She observed enthusiastically. The boy beamed at her, handing over his selections. She thumbed through them as she walked back behind the circulation desk.

“Ah, Beauty and the Beast!” Belle chirped, admiring the cover of one of the books. “Still enjoying your fairy tales, I see!” She quirked an eyebrow at the boy, giving him a doting smile.

“Yup,” the boy nodded. “It’s one of my favorites!” Henry glanced at the floor shyly for a moment, before looking up at her with a smile, wrinkling his nose. “You know... Beauty kind of reminds me of you, Miss French,” he confessed.

“Does she?” Belle asked encouragingly. Mr Gold was watching the exchange with a contented smile.

“Yeah! You’re both really smart and nice and love books!” The boy exclaimed.

“Well,” she chuckled, “I must say I’m very flattered, Henry.” As Belle scanned the books out, Henry’s brown eyes wondered to Mr Gold.

“Hi, Mr Gold!” he beamed. “What are you doing at the library?”

Belle’s eyes darted to him as well, curious to hear his response. Mr Gold was now gripping his cane tightly, leaning more heavily on it than usual. His eyes were wide, his expression frozen while his bottom lip trembled. After a moment, he shook his head.

“I was just uh, stopping by to make a modest donation,” he nodded. “I’m afraid I ought to get going now, actually.” Belle frowned, and returned to scanning the books.

“Oh,” Henry smiled. “Well that’s nice of you, Mr Gold.” The man didn’t say anything, instead giving the boy a tightlipped smile.

“And… you’re all set, Henry!” Belle announced, holding out his stack of books.

“Thanks, Miss French!” He nodded, accepting them from her. “Have a nice day! ...You too, Mr Gold!” As Henry made his way to the door, another guest began approaching the circulation desk.

“I-uh, I’m gonna go then,” Gold stammered. Belle could feel her heart sink into her stomach. “Miss French,” he bowed, “It’s uh, been lovely.”

“Goodbye, Mr Gold,” she sighed. Before Belle could say anything further, the next guest was readying their selections on her desk and Gold had already escaped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So close! But it looks like Mr Gold still isn't quite ready to take the next step.
> 
> [Gallery of Gold's gift for Belle](http://www.edition-originale.com/en/literature/illustrated-books/verne-lile-mysterieuse-1888-46531), if you're curious. :)  
>  In excellent condition, it would be valued at about $1,000.


	5. Chapter 5

Belle was headed to Granny’s for a quick bite after a late day in the library. Apparently every middle schooler in town had a research paper due at the end of the week, and she had been too swamped with pulling texts on everything from Shakespeare to quantum physics to get around to any of her more administrative duties.

Most of the storefronts along the street were now dim, but Belle couldn’t help but notice the incandescent glow emanating from the windows of Mr Gold’s shop. It was now Thursday, four days since he visited her at the library. She wondered why he had behaved so strangely, rushing off before they could make plans. It just didn’t make sense. As far as she could tell, he enjoyed her company as much as she did his. And why would he have gone out of his way to give her such a priceless gift if he didn’t care for her? He even _said_ he’d like to see her again.

_What a frustrating man_ , Belle thought. Perhaps this was what he meant when he called himself a coward last weekend. But what had he to fear from her? Rejection? Belle knew she had made her interest quite clear. Maybe she had come on too strong. Belle shook her head at the thought. _No. Mr Gold was a self-proclaimed coward. As sly as he might be in his business dealings, he needs far more than nuance in personal matters._

Determined to set him straight, Belle walked right past the diner, scurried across the street, and straight to the door of Mr Gold’s shop. She peered through the window, half expecting to see him at the counter inspecting some new trinket, despite the fact it was well past business hours. He was holed away in his office, this she knew.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath before giving it a gentle twist. The knob turned freely, confirming her hope that it be unlocked. Biting her lip, she glanced around the dark street before opening the door with a push. She winced at the sound of the door bell jingling, spoiling her element of surprise.

Belle froze in the doorway for a moment, not sure how to proceed. She hadn’t really thought this out very well, but she was contented to be in the shop nonetheless. It was familiar to her now, a sort of home away from home. She could hear Mr Gold in his office, shuffling papers and muttering under his breath. This was followed by the sound of his cane tapping on the floor. Realizing there was no going back, Belle headed casually for the counter. The curtain to his office swept open.

“Excuse me,” came his weary voice as he emerged from the threshold, his eyes focused on the ground. “We’re close—” He lifted his gaze and cut himself off, wide-eyed. Belle stood there, beaming. She had intended to keep a stern face, but the sight of him cast a wave of warmth to her chest that brought a smile to her face. Gold looked surprised, but not upset. “Belle?” he whispered.

“Good evening, Mr Gold,” she smiled, bobbing nervously.

“Wh-what are are you doing here?” He was frozen in place, his hand gripping his cane tightly. A faint smile tugged at his lips, yet his eyes looked tired.

“I uh, had a late night at the library,” she explained. “I saw your lights were still on.” Gold was staring at her with his jaw still halfway to the floor, confused. “I thought I’d drop by? If it’s alright—”

“No,” he rasped, “I mean yes.” He didn’t really know what the hell he was saying. “It’s fine,” he finally articulated, shaking his head in consternation. “Is there... something I can help you with, dear?”

“Oh, no. Not at all!” She assured. “This is just a uh, social visit” she wrinkled her nose and chuckled. Gold continued to gaze blankly at her in silence. Social visits were a foreign concept to him. Belle realized she probably wouldn’t be getting a response from him any time soon, and she continued. “Listen, I was thinking of grabbing some dinner at Granny’s…perhaps you could join me?” Belle looked at him expectantly, gesturing outside. “If you’re not too busy, that is?”

Mr Gold couldn’t imagine what he had done so right in his life to be deserving of her unyielding kindness. He knew he’d made a complete ass of himself at the library. She had every right to be furious with him, yet here she was, giving him another chance. He had to take it, though the thought that he’d most likely disappoint her again made him reluctant. He didn’t want to be responsible for any more heartache on her part. But he knew Belle better than that by now. Her endless compassion wasn’t a weakness to be taken advantage of; it was her greatest strength. Belle didn’t extend her kindness to anyone she didn’t want to, and to refuse her grace outright would be a far greater offense than to squander it.

“Yes,” he finally accepted, putting on a smile. “I’d like that,” he added with a nod. Belle’s lips curled into a smile as she noticed him rubbing his fingers together again.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

“It’s nothing pressing, dearie.” He dismissed. Gold gestured to the front door, “Please. Let’s go, shall we? I can’t deny that I am quite starved.”

  


 

The two of them received a few cross stares from the diner’s guests as they seated themselves. If Storybrooke weren’t such a small town, Belle imagined they could be mistaken for father and daughter, or perhaps even escort and client. She blushed at the thought, picking up her menu to hide behind. Peering over it, she watched as Mr Gold’s dark eyes skimmed his menu. He had pointed, stony features, high cheekbones, and a strong, grecian nose— but a sculpted Adonis he was not. His eyes were deeply set, and each shift in his expression cast a ripple of fine lines from the corners of his eyes and mouth. He wasn’t very attractive in the prevailing sense of the word, yet Belle couldn’t help but feast her eyes. He was like the weathered cover of a favorite book- scuffed, faded, and threadbare, but still beautiful.

“Can I interest you in anything _on_ the menu, sweetheart?” Belle jumped, whipping her neck to meet Granny’s haughty stare. The violent reaction pulled Gold out of his reading.

“I uh, I’ll just have the cheeseburger, please.” she stammered, her face beet red. “...And an iced tea.” Granny’s eyes darted to Mr Gold.

“I’ll have the same, Mrs. Lucas, thank you.” He nodded and the diner’s matriarch departed for the kitchen. “...A little jumpy tonight are we, Miss French?”

“It’s uh… been a long day,” she said, chuckling nervously. He gave her a sympathetic smile, which eased her slightly. “Do you always work this late?” she managed to ask.

“Quite often, yes.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Speak for yourself, Miss French,” he chided. “I happen to thoroughly enjoy my work!” Belle chuckled nervously, worried she had insulted him. She couldn’t imagine how his antique shop could keep him so busy in a town as small as Storybrooke. “The shop is more of a hobby,” he picked up again, as if reading her mind. “I’m afraid I spend more of my time managing properties, collecting debts, drawing up contracts... than I do appraising and procuring hard to find objects...” his voice wandered.

The doorbell jingled and Belle saw Gold’s eyes narrow with malice, fixing his attention on the diner’s new guest. The expression on his face made him look almost reptilian. Too intrigued to mind her manners, Belle craned her neck to see who could have spurred such a reaction.

Robin Loxley was the amiable proprietor of a popular bar in town. He was handsome, well liked, and highly respected, due to the generous amount of volunteer work he did for the community. How anyone could bear such ill will toward a man like Mr Loxley was beyond Belle. She could see his eyes meet Gold’s, and watched with curiosity as he began approaching their table.

“Mr Gold! I see your choice in women is as young and resplendent as ever,” the man teased with a dashing smile. A wicked grin formed on Gold’s face.

“Yes well, at my age, I’d be a fool to underestimate the importance of choosing my associates wisely. Besides, Mr Loxley, I do fancy myself a man of exquisite taste.”  He looked up at Robin with a quick nod, shaking and errant lock of hair out of his face. Belle could feel her cheeks warming to a soft pink. “Now please, to what do Miss French and I owe this great pleasure?” he groaned.

“What, a man can’t be chummy with his landlord?” Robin gasped in mock grief. Gold averted his eyes in petulance, wetting his lips.

“Certainly, Mr Loxley.” He met Robin’s gaze again. “Though it hardly seems like a fruitful endeavor for a man in a position as precarious as your own.” Robin scoffed, unbothered, though Gold’s meaning had not been lost on him. Belle hadn’t realized that among everything else, Mr Gold was also proficient in sass.

“Very well then,” Robin relented. “Though I do hope you might find the time to drop by the pub for a drink or two one evening— on the house. ...Bring a date, perhaps!” He looked pointedly at Belle, who chuckled uncomfortably in response.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t bet on that, Mr Loxley,” Gold dismissed. The palpable tension would have made Belle uncomfortable if she hadn’t found it so damn amusing.

“Please, Gold! Don't be so hard on yourself. Besides, I think you underestimate Miss French’s resolve!” Belle threw a hand over her mouth, struggling to stifle a giggle.

“You know Loxley,” Gold muttered. “I’m trying to figure out how this little—” he paused, flailing his hand loftily, “... _visit_ of yours is worthy of my time. But even _I_ am not too proud to admit an explanation eludes me.” If Gold was striking any sort of nerve, Robin certainly wasn't letting it show.

“Oh, come on!” he scoffed. “You’re a smart man, Gold. I’ll give you a minute, chew on it.” Robin winked again, giving Gold’s shoulder a nudge.

“I appreciate the assurance, Loxley.” He sighed. “However, I think I’ll spare myself the torment of chewing on anything of yours.” Robin’s jaw dropped in amusement.

“Ha! Can you believe this one?!” He asked Belle. She bit down on her lip, her cheeks starting to ache from grinning so much. Robin looked back at Gold, letting out a satisfied chuckle and crossing his arms in defeat. “Well then, I suppose I'll leave the two of you to enjoy your meal. I apologize for the intrusion, but you know I always enjoy our little heart-to-hearts, don’t you, Mr Gold?” He didn’t respond, but just gave him a cold stare. “Gold. Miss French.” Robin gave a quick bow and ducked away toward the diner’s front counter. Gold's eyes followed him like a hawk, watching as he collected a to-go order and left.

“Well.” Belle chimed in, having composed herself. “What was _that_ about?” Gold let out a deep sigh.

“That man is a veritable thief,” he grumbled. Belle snorted, erupting with laughter.

“A thief!? Mr Gold, he helps the library organize community fundraisers every year! He's one of the nicest guys in town!”

“A reputation built upon a foundation of lies,” he hissed, leaning toward her. “That, I can assure you.” Belle felt a pang in her gut as his dark eyes seared.

“That’s ridiculous!” She admonished, her blue eyes widened with incredulity. Her shoulders were still bouncing with mirth.

“That man is a _parasite_ who should be grateful I didn't shut down that filthy, leaching establishment he calls a bar years ago!” Gold rolled his eyes emphatically before his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. “...Owes me far more than a round of stiff cocktails,” he snickered. Belle gave him a doubtful glare, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“So then why haven't you?” She asked. There was beat of silence, and Gold’s expression softened.

“Please, Miss French,” he scoffed. “Despite what you may have heard, I'm not one to put out the devoted single father of a young boy.” Belle's face went from a disappointed glare to a delighted smile.

“...You have a funny way of showing people you care, Mr Gold,” she teased. He responded by pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, and fluttering his eyelids in what appeared to be embarrassment.

“Don’t be absurd,” he deflected with a dismissive drop of the wrist. He averted his eyes, but couldn’t hide the amused grin forming on his face. Belle chewed her bottom lip, trying but failing miserably to hold back a smile.

“It’s okay,” she giggled after a moment, placing her hand on his. Her eyes flitted around the diner conspiratorially, before returning to his gaze. Leaning in, she continued in a mock whisper, “You’re secret’s safe with me, I won’t go around telling everyone what a softie you are.” She gave him a wink and pulled back her hand.

“Well that’s a relief, Miss French,” he nodded. “I’d have hated for you to wind up like the last person who tried to soil my reputation as an insufferable bastard.” Belle snorted, and a pleased smirk formed on Gold’s face. “...A man’s reputation is all he has, you know. I have to protect mine at all costs.”

Belle was still struggling with her laughter when Granny finally arrived with their food. But like one of Pavlov’s dogs, she fell silent once her plate was set in front of her. Mr Gold cleared his throat.

“Might I trouble you for a bottle of your finest syrah, Mrs. Lucas?” Granny gave Gold a drained look. “...Or perhaps a cabernet sauvignon would suffice?”

“It would be my pleasure,” the woman groaned, heading to the bar to grab a bottle and two glasses. Belle stared at Gold, curious. Neither spoke a word, but he offered an awkward smile, steepling his fingers as they waited. Mr Gold made a thwarted expression at the bottle as Granny set it on the table.

“I suppose that should do,” he derided, making an effort not to sound too blunt. The woman rolled her eyes before returning to the kitchen. Gold began pouring the glasses.

“You know,” Belle began, “Mr Gold feels a bit formal, don’t you think?” He winced and cleared his throat. Belle watched his adam’s apple ebb in his throat.

“Well now dearie, _everybody_ calls me Mr Gold,” he chuckled nervously.

“Your tenants, customers, and clients do,” she clarified, “but I’d like to think of us as more than that. Surely there’s something a little more familiar I could call you.” Belle smiled and gave Mr Gold a doe-eyed look. He responded with a helpless gaze and a sharp sigh. His jaw dropped open only to close back again as he formed a response.

“Well,” he began after a pause, “Some of my past… affiliations took to calling me Rum.”

“Rum.” she repeated wistfully. She took a sip of her wine, savoring it as if to taste the moniker on her tongue. Mr Gold felt the temperature of the diner rise about twenty degrees at the sound of her voice pronouncing his name. The last person to call him Rum was his ex-wife, but Belle didn’t need to know that. Milah called him a few other things too, which he didn’t care to think about. Instead, he focused on the way Belle’s fingers gently cupped the bowl of her wine glass in what resembled a beckoning gesture. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s short for Rummond,” he blurted, pinching the stem of his glass and drawing it to his lips. He took a long sip, buying himself a moment.

“I like it,” she affirmed.

“I’m glad it pleases you, Miss French,” he nodded with a smile.

“Please. _Belle_ .” she corrected, raising her glass after a beat. “...To friends?” He felt a pang in his chest at this word, _friends_ , but elected not to dwell on it.

“To friends.” he toasted, and they clinked their glasses.

They finally proceeded to eat their meal. Belle had a small moment of disgrace when the bottle of ketchup let out a flatulent squeal over her plate, but Rum just gave her an amused grin and the two laughed it off. Belle found the sight of him in his three-piece suit, devouring a burger and shoveling fries into his mouth, quite endearing. Gold couldn’t help but be charmed moments later, when he looked up at her to see a drop of red condiment daubed by the corner of her mouth.

“Oh— dearie,” he blurted, signaling to her by tapping his cheek. She let out a gasp and proceeded to wipe the wrong side of her face a few times. “Not quite, darling,” he chuckled. After another handful of failed attempts, he figured he ought to spare her, pink as her cheeks had become. “Here, let me.” He leaned over the table, swiped the ketchup away with his finger, and before he could realize what he was doing, popped it into his mouth and licked it off.

“Oh,” she gasped, wide-eyed. “...Thanks.” Belle was counting her lucky stars that he hadn’t maintained eye contact with her just then, because she was certain she wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Gold was looking at her like a deer in the headlights, his face throbbing as if he’d just been attacked by a colony of fire ants.

“Don’t mention it,” he squeaked. _Ever_ , _for the love of God,_ he finished to himself. She sat up and pulled away from her plate, leering at him. _Fucking hell._

“I… I take it you uh, don’t care much for your name,” she spoke slowly, almost a question. Gold let out a relieved sigh, feeling his poor excuse for a soul return to his body.

“It’s alright. I’m just not used to hearing it,” he shrugged.

“I can call you—”

“Belle. It’s fine.” Her expression dampened for a moment, then perked back up.

“You know…” she began with a devilish smile. “We never got to finish our conversation at the library the other day.”

“Oh,” he gasped. “...and what uh, conversation was that?” Gold anxiously took another swig of wine. He knew damn well what conversation she was talking about. It was the one that had just been demoted to number _two_ on the list of things he hoped would never be brought up again. Belle rolled her eyes playfully.

“Don’t play coy with me, Mr Gold!” She pushed her near empty plate aside and leaned in closely. He just stared back at her, helpless. Lidding her eyes demurely, she continued. “I believe we were about to schedule a date.”

“Oh, right,” he rasped, chuckling nervously. She had him cornered now, right where she wanted him. _No sense in fighting it now,_ he thought. Gold squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “We were, weren’t we?”

“Mhmm…” She nodded, encouraging him with a flirtatious smile. “We left off at the part where you name a time and place,” she added, biting down on her lip.

“Right, right,” Gold recalled. “...I think I uh, know just the place,” he nodded.

“You do?” Belle raised a brow in pleasant surprise. Gold was quiet for a moment.

“...Yeah,” he answered breathily. Belle beamed at him, shrugging her shoulders in delight. “But uh,” he continued, managing a sly grin, “let’s keep it a surprise, shall we?”

“Oh, _okay._ ” Belle murmured, practically squirming with glee.

“I could pick you up on Tuesday? At Six?” He suggested. Gold seemed much more relaxed now, confident even.

“Yes!” Belle exclaimed. “That would be uh, perfect,” she added with a smile, nibbling her lip again. _Confidence looks so good on him,_ she thought.

“I suppose it’s a date then, Miss French.”

“It’s a date,” she affirmed.

Belle felt as though her heart might burst out of her chest. It took a week of practically throwing herself at him, but she finally had a proper date with Mr Gold. Next time, she thought, she ought to just hold up a giant sign.

They were quiet for a while, sneaking furtive glances at each other until their checks arrived. They got up from their table slowly, smiling sheepishly at each other before stepping out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. It was a beautiful night, with a warm breeze that sent their hair fluttering as it swept by. Gold was mesmerized by the way the lights from Granny’s patio gleamed in Belle’s blue eyes. The flecks of white and yellow highlights amidst the ocean of her blue irises could put Van Gogh’s _Starry Night_ to shame.

“I uh, guess I’ll head back home to the library then,” Belle mumbled.

“Yeah,” Gold whispered, failing to find words.

“Thanks for joining me.”

“Of course,” he nodded.

After a brief hesitation, Belle rose to her toes and planted a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“See you on Tuesday,” she smiled. Gold just gazed at her in awe for a moment. Of all the fine things he had set his eyes on, Belle French was by far the most precious. He wanted those azure eyes of hers on him always. He glanced over her features and it hit him— _by God, he wanted to kiss her_. His lip quivered and he lowered his head, leaning in ever so slightly. It was an involuntary movement more than anything. But she seemed to mirror the gesture, and so he closed his eyes and went for it. He brought his lips to hers with a touch so delicate as to hardly be perceptible, yet in that moment it was more than enough. He pulled away slowly and his eyelids fluttered open to find her smiling back at him.

“...Six o’clock,” he finally confirmed with a nod, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Six o’clock.” She echoed, wrinkling her nose. After a beat, Belle spun around and began heading for the library. After a few paces, she paused to look back over her shoulder.

“...Mr Gold?”

“Yes, Miss French?”

“Can I have a hint, where we’re going?” She asked. Gold scoffed.

“Not a chance, dearie,” he smirked. Belle rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“Goodnight, Mr Gold.” She smiled and continued on her way with a contented sigh.

“Goodnight, Belle.” He called after her quietly.

Mr Gold headed back toward his shop with a grin he couldn’t wipe off his face even if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold finally took a small step out of his shell! But what could he possibly have in store for their date? ;)


	6. Chapter 6

The only noise in the library was the sound of Belle turning the pages of her latest selection. It was the end of the day and there hadn’t been any visitors for the past hour. As the sun was setting on Storybrooke, the windows were beginning to make their transition into mirrors. Catching a glimpse at her reflection, Belle began preening herself, combing her hair with her fingers and making faces that left her thankful there was no one on the outside to look in and see. Satisfied, she let out a sigh and looked back down at her book.

Belle had been fretting all day over what she should wear. She decided not to dress up too much, as the library locked up at six which didn’t really give her any time to change her outfit and redo her hair or makeup. That, and the fact that she still had no idea where Mr Gold was taking her. He certainly had the means to take her anywhere— someplace where they might dine on caviar while sharing a bottle a wine worth more than most people’s rent— but Belle was hoping he’d forgo such extravagance in favor of something more casual, where one needn’t worry about using the wrong fork at the wrong time.

This morning she’d settled on a sleeveless knee-length canary yellow dress with a white lace overlay. It had an a-line shape that flattered her figure and a wide neckline that showcased her shoulders and collarbones, yet wasn’t too revealing. The fabric was soft enough to flutter around her legs as she moved, but just structured enough to not be too casual. The white lace had a clean lattice pattern that transformed into sweeping scrollwork that resembled acanthus leaves toward the hem. She paired the dress with almond-toed suede heels in a Persian blue. They had plenty of height and delicate ankle straps that left her legs looking long and toned.

The humming of the fluorescent lights above her was suddenly incredibly distracting. Her eyes skimmed over the words on the pages without really reading them. A few minutes later, she stirred at the sound of a car approaching. Belle checked the time on her phone- 5:58 PM.

“Punctuality,” she observed under her breath, rising from her desk and grabbing her bag. Belle eagerly stepped out of the library and began locking up, Gold’s black Cadillac pulling up the the curb behind her. She spun around as he stepped out of the car.

“Mr Gold— you made it,” she smiled. Belle couldn’t help thinking how handsome he looked, not that he was dressed much differently than he usually was. She noticed he had forgone a waistcoat for the evening, giving more prominence than usual to his mulberry shirt and matching tie. Mr Gold always looked sharp, but now, through the lens of the fact that this was an actual date, well— he just looked downright sexy.

“I do like to consider myself a man of my word,” he nodded, hitching over with his cane. His sable eyes glanced over her slowly, but Belle couldn’t quite place his expression.

“Is… Is something wrong?” She asked. Gold quickly shook his head.

“No, no,” he blurted. “It’s just uh… well—” he glanced away and scoffed, a shy grin tugging at his lips before he dared to look back at her. “You look positively stunning, Belle,” he admired calmly.

“ _Oh._ ” She gasped. “Well, thank you,” she accepted the compliment with a small curtsy and smiled back at him, nibbling her lip. “You uh, look quite handsome yourself,” she returned, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“Beside you? I’m sure I look haggard at best,” he insisted with a lopsided grin. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Belle chuckled. “...Can’t exactly prepare for a surprise.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, opening the passenger door for her. She stepped inside, familiarizing herself with the car’s luxe red interior as she settled in while he closed her door and headed for the driver’s side. Gold took his seat, set down his cane, and shut the door. He took a moment to take Belle in, noticing a difference in the way she had styled her hair, and how her lips were stained a rich berry color that was deeper and more sumptuous than usual. Turning her gaze and catching him in the act, Belle smiled. He cleared his throat and shook his head in response.

“Let’s not waste any time, shall we?” He paused to put the car in gear, checking his mirrors. “I’d like to get there before it gets too dark.” Belle was tempted to ask him where, but knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

Mr Gold drove beyond the town’s outskirts, down a dirt path in the woods. Belle was becoming increasingly uneasy as he drove deeper and deeper into the forest, but was intrigued nonetheless. Finally, the car slowed to a stop in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. Belle looked at Gold wide-eyed in confusion. His expression was blank, yet there was something greater in his eyes, which were focused ahead.

“We walk from here,” he spoke casually, opening his door.

He helped Belle out of the car and began leading her deeper into the forest. She was beginning to regret her choice of shoes.

“I must say, Mr Gold, I have no clue where you’re taking me.” Belle chuckled nervously.

“You’ll find out soon enough, Belle,” he assured, taking her hand. “It’s just ahead,” he added with a nod.

In the distance she finally saw it— an old well in the clearing. Her interest piqued, she let go of Gold’s hand and began rushing ahead. She inspected the well, looking down into the abyss, just barely able to hear the trickling of the water deep below.

“So… where are we?” she finally asked, turning her attention back to him and grinning with anticipation. Pleased with her enthusiasm, he afforded her an askew smile.

“This,” he began, tapping his cane on the ground, “happens to be a rather special place, Belle.” He paused a moment while he caught up to her. “It’s believed that the waters that run below this well are connected to an underground lake that was long rumored to possess magical properties. More specifically, the ability to restore that which has been lost.”

“Magic.” Belle smiled. “Of course.”

“You think I’m mad, don’t you?” He asked with a grin.

“No, not at all,” she laughed. shaking her head. “I mean, I don’t know that I _believe_ it,” she admitted. “But it’s certainly uh, poetic.”

Gold shrugged with a smile, satisfied with her answer.

“Besides,” she continued, taking his hand in hers and drawing him closer. “I’m more than capable of a willing suspension of disbelief,” she added with a wink. He just looked at her appreciatively.

In two short weeks, this incredibly kind, patient, brilliant, and beautiful woman had managed to wiggle her way into his life. She’d maneuvered right past his defenses and straight to his dormant heart. It had been a long time since he’d trusted anybody with his heart, but if it was going to be safe in anyone’s hands, those hands would be Belle’s. The temptation to fold into himself and push her away was there, but for the first time, he found had the will to fight it. The space she occupied in his heart was now filled with warmth, sprouting with the beginnings of happiness. She’d taken root in him, and he wasn’t too beside himself to recognize how badly he wanted her to stay.

“Belle,” he began after a moment, his expression now somber. “I’d like an opportunity… to be open with you.”

“Sure.” she smiled. “I’m listening.”

“I’m sure you’ve wondered how it happened.”

“How ...what happened?” Belle eyed him, puzzled.

“Why, this, of course.” he said, gesturing at his ankle. Belle’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“Oh no, Rum, you don’t have to—”

“No no, let me.” he insisted, raising his hand up. “You wanted to hear my story, Belle. Now I’m telling it to you.” He paused for a moment, shifting his weight onto his cane and straightening his posture. “Belle, the other day you said I was looking for someone. And you were right.” Gold let a wave of reluctance and anxiety crash over him. He took a deep breath, feeling at peace as it receded. Able to sense the gravity of what he was about to tell her, Belle leaned in closely.

“For many years, Belle, I’ve been looking for my son. The thing is, I almost died without ever having held him.” Belle’s eyes widened, surprised more by the fact that he was telling her this than she was by the information itself. After a pause, she gave him a slight nod, encouraging him to continue. “I was in the armed forces and was stationed in Northern Ireland during the Troubles— Operation Banner we called it. It was a horrid situation. Some of our own were gunning down unarmed civilians, some of them children. Others were arming the civilians. It had already been going on for so long, and with little sign of improvement. This—” he said, tapping at his foot with his cane, “was the only way I could guarantee myself a safe and swift return home.”

“You hurt yourself. ...So you could go home to your son?” Belle looked Gold up and down, her expression tender and full of understanding. “I think that’s quite virtuous of you,” she added. Engrossed, she leaned up against the well to get comfortable as she listened to the rest of his tale. “But.. what happened? To your son?”

"This limp, Belle, only marks the beginning. By the time I returned to Glasgow, I had already earned a reputation as a coward who had cheated my way out of my duties. My wife, Milah, couldn’t bear the sight of me and left, leaving me with Neal— our son. But that was a blow I could endure.” His eyes flitted up toward the sky and he sighed. “I knew she was unhappy long before my deployment,” he added with a shrug. “The real blow came years later. The life I shared with Neal wasn’t much. He was all I had, really. However,” he paused again to compose himself. “I held him too close, Belle, and I drove him away.”

“What do you mean?” She asked softly.

“To say I was an overbearing father would be an understatement. After Milah left, I became terrified of losing him too. He despised me for it. Neal would always talk about how the two of us would pack our things one day and find someplace to start over. I always balked at the thought. It terrified me.” Gold looked away from her in shame. “So one day he packed up his things and found someplace to start over without me.”

“I’m so sorry, Rum.” she commented poignantly. “I’m afraid I-I don’t know what to say.”

“The thing is, the only reason I even knew I was going to be a father,” he continued, focusing his gaze on the well, “is because one night while I was in Belfast, I was approached by a woman who claimed she could see the future. She foretold many things, and without her supposed gift— without that magic, I never would have even known I had a son to come home to.”

“So… because magic was how you found your son in the first place, you believe magic is the only way you’ll find him again?” Belle assessed.

“In a word, yes.” he answered, matter-of-factly. Gold dodged her stare, almost embarrassed to have his lifelong quest summarized in such simple terms. He let out a sharp sigh. “All these years, all I’ve wanted is a second chance, a chance to do right by him.”

Belle slowly stepped over to Gold, taking his hand. She gazed into his sable eyes with empathy.

“Children rarely understand the sacrifices we make for them. The lengths we go to to protect them.” she offered. “I’m sure, wherever your son is, he understands that now. That he forgives you.” She gave his hand a firm shake. “For whatever it is you did.”

“I wish I could have confidence in that, Belle. But I’m afraid I don’t.”

“...Why not?” Belle asked, now studying his hand. He watched as her delicate fingers traced the lines on his palm and let out a deep sigh.

“My own father abandoned me when I was just a child. He didn’t want the responsibility. He thought I was a burden. One day he even told me, that I was everything that stood in the way of him ever making something of himself.” Gold explained. He glanced at the well for a moment, then scoffed bitterly. “I’ve never forgiven him.”

“But you’re not like him, Rum.” She insisted. Belle looked up at him in earnest. “He chose to leave you. But you… you _made the choice_ to be a father to your son. The fact that you let him slip away years later doesn’t change that.” Her eyes glanced over his features, trying to anticipate his response. Before he could protest, she continued. _“_ I believe... you must have always had your in the right place. You might never forgive your father, and maybe your son won’t forgive you. But you at least have to forgive yourself.”

“I just wanted to so badly to be there for him, I lost sight of what that really meant.” Gold explained with a frown. “I wasn’t the father he needed. I let my own fear of losing him get in the way. He tried to tell me, in his way— but I was coward.”

“I don’t think you’re a coward, Rum. I think you’re just human,” Belle gave him a comforting smile, securing her grip on his hand reassuringly.

“We can drive ourselves mad thinking up all the ways we could have done better. I know I have.” Belle paused in thought. “But I uh, tend to believe that we always do our best given the circumstances. It’s just that under the worst circumstances... our best isn’t always good enough, or even recognizable. We can’t blame ourselves for that.” There was a long silence before she continued. Gold simply looked at her in silence, watching the fleeting expressions on her face cycle through a range of emotions. Grief, fear, regret, acceptance.

“It was a home invasion, how I lost my mother,” Belle revealed, keeping her gaze on his hand in hers. “She told me to stay and hide. Granted, I was a child, but... I was old enough.” Tears began to well in her eyes as she dusted off the painful memories in her mind. She looked back up at him and continued. “I spent years hating myself, knowing I could have done something. I was constantly reliving that moment, remembering how instead of being brave, I just froze and watched it happen.” Belle took a deep breath, composing herself. Gold’s breath hitched, these words striking him like a dagger into his chest.

“But now… now I understand that in that moment, _that_ was my best.” Belle added with a sigh, looking down at her feet. “I mean, given the chance to do it again, would I do things differently?” She paused and scoffed. “Of course. I’d like to think so. ...But it’s in my past, it’s made me who I am now. I don’t get to go back and change it. I just have to live with it, and try to do better _now_.” She looked back up at Gold again, whose previously stern expression had now crumbled into devastating grief, visibly struggling to hold back tears.

“Oh, Belle,” Gold’s voice cracked and he threw his arms around her with abandon. He pulled her close to his chest, burying his face into her shoulder.

The uninhibited display caught Belle off guard, but she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him. Gold let out a heaving breath, which sent a pulse of heat down Belle’s neck. She could feel the muscles in her body relaxing as the warmth penetrated her skin. They lingered in each other’s arms for a minute, neither one eager to let go. Listening to their breaths, they could feel each other’s chests rise and fall against their own. Belle slowly lifted her head from Gold’s shoulder and gazed up at him. He pulled away, bewildered, when their eyes met again. After a beat, the two let out a soft chuckle. Belle retracted her arm, her fingers trailing from his shoulder and eventually reaching his hand, which she grasped softly. She turned her head, taking another look at the well beside them.

“...The ability to restore that which has been lost.” Belle repeated under her breath. His hand in hers, she stepped closer to the well, peering into its depths once more. Mr Gold joined her, his fingers now wresting hold of her hand. He turned his focus to her face, which was full of wonder. He tried to imagine what she was thinking, but was content in not knowing. Belle looked back at him, her eyes tracing his weary features, taking him in. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Gold mirrored her expression, and the two drew closer.

“I’m sorry,” Belle smiled, shaking her head. “It’s just I uh, never told all of that to anyone before.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted quietly. “...Believe me, I understand,” he added with a soft chuckle.

“...Thank you,” Belle finally said with a firm nod. “For sharing your story with me. I know how uh, difficult that must have been for you.” Gold glanced down at his feet.

“Well, it’s quite a load off my shoulders,” he admitted, looking back up at her. “And I have you to thank for that, Belle,” He added with a warm smile.

Both their gazes darted back and forth from each other’s eyes to their lips, until Belle finally threw herself into him. Her hands gripped Mr Gold’s shoulders as she pressed her lips against his. For an instant he almost pulled back, but he just as quickly changed his mind, plunging into the kiss with her. He fell breathless, consumed with bliss as her fingers wrapped behind his neck and entwined with the length of his hair. Belle closed her eyes, indulging in this moment of intimacy. As she pulled away slightly to catch her breath, he threw his arm around her waist, keeping her close. She leaned back into him, this time parting her lips, inviting him to do the same.

He immediately reciprocated, and Belle began backing herself against the well. His lips tugged on hers gently as he followed her lead. She traced her fingers along his jawline, pulling him in deeper. Belle relaxed her tongue, testing the boundary between them by allowing it to brush against his lip. His mouth opened wider in acceptance, and they slowly took each other in. They curbed their advances, each taking a moment to taste the other. A contented groan sounded from Gold’s throat and Belle let out a soft moan of approval as their lips parted briefly. They quickly rolled into another longing kiss and Belle could feel his lips curling into a smile against her own. Finally, they slowly and hesitantly pulled apart.

The two sighed in unison, eyeing each other rapturously. Belle bit her lip and smiled at Gold, who stared blankly at her in awe. She let out a silent chuckle, nodding toward the well and taking his hand once more.

“...to lost love.” She acknowledged. Gold glanced at the well, then back to her, struggling to find a response in his lingering state of euphoria.

“Yes,” he whispered. “...To lost love.” Belle gave him a sweet smile and grabbed his shoulders reassuringly.

“May we find it again,” she murmured, planting another kiss on his cheek. Mr Gold smiled weakly, dodging her gaze. “...What’s wrong?” She asked.

“I’m sorry,” he answered stiffly.

“Whatever for?” Belle looked deeply into his eyes and gently combed an errant lock of hair from his face.

“I doubt this is what you had in mind for the evening,” he explained with a small shrug. Belle chuckled.

“It isn’t,” she admitted. “But this… this was much better than anything I could have possibly imagined.” Belle gave him an adoring smile, reaching for his hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” he scoffed, seeming to have been relaxed by her assurances. “There is, however, the matter of a dinner reservation we’ll be late for if we don’t get along now,” he added with a lopsided grin.

“Oh!” Belle pursed her lips and her eyes widened. “Where are we going _now_?”

“Well I can’t just tell you, dearie!” Gold admonished. He offered Belle the crook of his arm, which she accepted with a huff. “...It would ruin the surprise,” he murmured as they started toward the car. As he helped her into the Cadillac, she paused and gave him a sly glare.

“I’m beginning to realize you’re quite full of surprises, Mr Gold.”

He eyed her with a smug grin for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. Now Belle was the one who was awestruck.

“Pleasant surprises, I hope,” he winked and shut the car door before she could find a response.

_The best surprises_ , Belle thought to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to write, but I imagine final chapters always are.  
> However... I'm thinking I'll probably write a fluffy little epilogue for this, set a few months into their relationship ;)
> 
> I'll now be focusing my attention on a Golden Lace AU I've been cooking up! I have 6 out of an estimated 30-40 chapters down so far-- with plenty of fluff, angst, UST, and smut! So keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoyed it! ♥


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy happy ending, as promised!
> 
> There's so many cute little moments I could imagine in their courtship, so I tried to touch on a bunch of them as memories. Hopefully it didn't turn out too drabbly?

_Six Months Later_

 

Belle was nestled on the sofa in the living room of Mr Gold’s pink Victorian. It was early in the evening and the setting sunlight was filtering through the stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscopic assortment of warm, vibrant colors on the wall. She was tucked under a cozy throw, her nose buried in a book. From the kitchen, she could hear Rummond opening and closing cabinets, and the crackling sound of the kettle rolling to a boil. Belle pulled her attention from her book, thinking to remind him not to let the kettle whistle— if the water got too hot, it would ruin the tea. But just as she began to open her mouth, she heard him pick it up and place it on another burner. She smiled and continued her reading.

As she finished the last paragraph of her chapter, she caught Rummond placing a cup of tea on the coffee table from the corner of her eye.

“Thank you.” She glanced up at him and smiled. Rummond took a step closer and leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Of course, darling,” he smiled. He lingered, eyeing her with adoration for a moment before hitching back into the kitchen. Belle closed her book and set it on the table, her eyes following him. A giggle escaped her lips as he reemerged from the hall. God, he absolutely worshipped the sound of her laughter.

“What?” He gasped in feigned offense, a lopsided smile on his face.

“You still have that thing?” She asked, nodding toward the cup in his hands.

“Oh, this old thing?” He scoffed, holding it up demonstratively. Belle just smiled at him as he settled beside her on the sofa. “Well, I’m quite certain it’s my favorite.” He explained, setting the teacup down to cool.

She was nibbling on her lip now, and all Rummond could think about was how adorable she looked in this moment. Her precious little head was popping out from beneath the deep peacock colored blanket, framed by the chestnut tendrils that had strayed from the loose bun she wore. Her makeup had mostly worn off through the day, leaving her sapphire blue eyes lightly lined with smudged charcoal.

“...What?” She giggled and watched as a grin slowly tugged at his lips, meeting his warm brown eyes. He always looked so beautiful in the golden light of dusk, a placid amber glow radiating off of his features. Unable to stave off his smile any longer, he leaned over, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and planted a delicate kiss to her lips. He pulled away slowly, gazing into her blue eyes reverently.

“...That’s what.”

Beaming, Belle abandoned her cozy corner of the sofa and squirmed over to him. She fidgeted for a moment, seemingly unable to get close enough, before letting out a contented sigh and burying her face into his chest. After a pause, she glanced pointedly at the teacup in front of him. The sunlight cast a glare along its golden rim.

“I don’t know.” Belle shrugged. “I mean, it’s just a cup,” she mumbled teasingly. He looked down at her with a crooked smile, then at the cup. He then sat upright, squaring his shoulders, and responded in a didactic tone.

“No, no, _Miss French_ ,” he scoffed, taking it into his hands. “You see, this cup—” he paused, turning it about for her to see, “is imbued with the most powerful magic of all.” Belle widened her eyes in feigned disbelief.

“A magic cup?” She gasped, playing along. “I must say that I’m intrigued, _Mr Gold._  ...Please, tell me more about this magic cup of yours!”

“Well the thing about magical objects, dearie, is that they only possess as much power as we give them.”

“And what powerful magic might that be?” She asked, nibbling her lip mischievously.

“...You mean you don’t know?” He asked with a sly grin, setting the cup back down.

“It seems I may need some reminding,” she suggested, wiggling her brows.

“Well then, perhaps I could demonstrate?” Rummond shifted on the sofa to face her and placed a hand to her cheek.

“Please do,” she insisted with a nod, her face flushing to a delightful shade of pink.

Rummond leaned in and pulled her close, pressing another kiss to her lips. This time, he took her plump lower lip between his own, gently tugging on it as he drew back to seek a better angle. He could feel a smile shaping her lips as he brushed against them with his own again. Belle inched closer to him, deepening the kiss. His tongue ventured between her lips and she took him in. She draped her arms over his shoulders, entwining her fingers in his hair. They parted slightly to catch their breaths before diving back in and delighting in each other’s taste. Belle let out a satisfied little moan as his tongue skimmed over the one particularly sensitive spot he’d discovered on their third date.

Magic would definitely be an accurate term for the warmth Belle felt rise within her chest every time they kissed. She relished the touch of Rummond’s lips against her own, and the tenderness with which he grazed his thumb over her cheek as he drew her close. His teeth gently raked over her tongue as he began to pull away, but Belle wasn’t ready to part from him just yet. She pulled him close again, a tiny giggle escaping her lips as he took the hint and plunged back into the kiss with her. Having finally gotten her fill, she slowly released him from her lips. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.

“I love you, Belle.” He whispered.

“And I love you,” she murmured, giving him a light peck on the cheek.

It had been about three months since they had said those words to each other for the first time. Yet, it still felt so new to them. It was Rummond who had said them first. They just slipped out one morning after Belle had spent the night. They had been getting ready to make breakfast. Rummond had been preparing their tea, and was watching her forage through the cabinets as it steeped. She arched a brow at him when she’d pulled away from the cupboard and caught him red-handed. _“What?”_ She asked. _“Nothing. I just love you so much, that’s all.”_ He shrugged. He hadn’t realized what he’d said until she abandoned her pursual and came barreling toward him, pulling him in for a kiss. She’d looked at him with those bright blue eyes and simply said, _“I love you, too."_ They wound up forgetting about their tea that morning, in favor of retreating back up to the bedroom to express their sentiments more thoroughly. It wasn’t the first time for _that_ , but it was certainly the most tenderly they’d made love up to that point.

It was a little over a month later that Rummond had been taking inventory at the shop. He was rummaging through his cupboard when he came upon their little chipped memento. He couldn’t help smiling as he recalled the day they met. How curious she was about everything, about him. At the time, he’d figured the chip would be easy enough to repair, that he could still sell it. But as he held it in his hands again, he couldn’t imagine doing any such thing. He had a better idea. So instead, he wrapped it up and took it home, waiting for a ripe moment to show it to Belle. He was beginning to grow impatient, however, and decided today was as good a day as any.

“You’re right,” Belle admitted, glancing back at it. “It is a good cup.”

“It’s the best cup,” he clarified, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He picked it back up and took a long sip of his tea. Belle gazed up at him and he let out a contented sigh. She shifted on the sofa to pick up her own tea. Once she had gotten settled back against him, he slid his free hand over hers, gliding his thumb to and fro over her soft skin. Belle basked in the gentle touch for a moment before wiggling her hand free and entwining her fingers with his. They gave each other a little squeeze and sipped on their tea in blissful quiet.

By the time they’d finished, it had gotten rather dark. The vibrant mosaics cast on the wall by the stained glass windows were now faint, dreamy washes of color on the floor. Rummond watched as her body expanded and contracted with each breath she took. Her eyes had drifted shut, and though he knew she wasn’t asleep, she was certainly getting here. He relished the closeness of her as she inhaled and lamented the remarked distance as she exhaled. She was so beautiful, so precious curled into him like this. He began to dread the thought that she’d be heading back home soon— if not tonight, then tomorrow morning.

“Belle,” he whispered as softly as he could manage. She nestled into him and fluttered her eyes open in response.

“Hmm?”

“Would you—” he paused with a sigh and drew a sharp breath. Belle grew more alert, picking up on his nerves. “Would you move in with me, Belle?” He asked softly. She lifted her head from his chest and smiled, biting into her lower lip. She didn’t speak, but just nodded vehemently. Rummond let out a relieved sigh and a small giggle bubbled out of her.

“Yes!” She beamed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She pressed a kiss to his neck, then pulled away to press another to the corner of his mouth. “I’d love to,” she assured him and he smiled back, running a hand through her hair.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I am,” she chuckled. “This place has been my home for a while now, Rumple,” she murmured and pressed a third kiss to his lips.

Rummond felt his heart soar at the little nickname she’d given him. She’d been right— as she was with most things— about him not caring for being called by his given name. One night while they were watching TV at her apartment, she’d gotten onto the topic of fairy tales and began likening him to Rumpelstiltskin. Rummond took mild offense to it at first. _“Rumpelstiltskin? That baby-stealing little imp?!”_ Belle just giggled out her argument, _“Rummond- Rumpelstiltskin? He spins gold and you’re Mr Gold! You both make deals with people, and you both keep your names secret! He's magic and you study magic! You're practically one and the same!”_ Rummond wasn’t persuaded, but he was happy to listen as she bubbled with mirth. Later, when the time had come for them to exchange goodnight kisses by the door, she’d said it. _“Goodnight, Rumple,”_ she whispered and planted a kiss to his lips. And just like that, he’d been convinced. No other nickname would do. He was her _Rumple_ and he couldn’t imagine being anything else.

“Well,” Rummond began with a smirk, clearing his throat. “Will you be spending tonight at _home_ then?”

“Mhmm!” She nodded, nibbling her lip once more as she wiggled onto his lap, her legs straddled around him.

“Good.” He smiled, planting a kiss on her flushed cheek.

“Tonight and every night.” She declared, cupping his face in her hands. Rummond rested his hands at her waist and leaned in as she pressed her lips to his, demonstrating for each other once more— the most powerful magic of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone again for all your lovely comments and feedback! I never expected such a warm reception for my first fic!
> 
> The Golden Lace AU I mentioned in the notes for the previous chapter is still a go (10/~35 chapters down!) and I'm thinking I'll start posting a chapter each week sometime next month. In the meantime, feel free to say hi (or drop a prompt) on [tumblr](http://coolandstressing.tumblr.com) :)


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